


my king, my queen, my silver shield

by sadie18



Series: a study in pining [6]
Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Ambiguous/Open Ending, Bill and Fleur's wedding, Book 7: Harry Potter and the Deathly Hallows, Canon Compliant, Internal Conflict, Internalized Homophobia, Light Angst, M/M, Not Canon Compliant, One-Sided Attraction, Pining, The Deathly Hallows, Weddings, or is it?????, ron and his famous inferiority complex strikes again
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-09-14
Updated: 2019-09-14
Packaged: 2020-10-18 09:02:02
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,972
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20636576
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sadie18/pseuds/sadie18
Summary: the relevancy of viktor krum to ron- a scene from bill and fleur's wedding, with some memories in betweena study in self-acceptance and seeing the bright side





	my king, my queen, my silver shield

**Author's Note:**

> part six of "a study in pining"
> 
> my tumblr is @oliivverwood, come chat x

Fleur and Bill's wedding is, for lack of better word (because Ron's never really been good with those), _beautiful_. 

It's loud and bright and colourful and one glance at Harry, who's relaxed and smiling for the first time in what feels like _forever, _tells Ron that this is where he wants to be forever. Surrounded by family and friends without a single care about the war brewing outside the simple white tent. Molly is wiping away tears with an orange coloured handkerchief and Bill is laughing at her, teasing, but still wraps his arms around her because he's a good son.

(Ron's not always been the best son, nor has he ever been deserving of the title, but he hopes one day that his mother will cry at his wedding and he'll be able to hug her and tell her it's all going to be okay.)

Luna is wearing a strange yellow dress and dancing with a bemused yet cheerful looking Charlie and Hermione looks radiant while she argues with his notorious Aunt Muriel at one of the tables. Fleur is smiling so brightly that anyone would think the woman had never experienced sadness in her life- her cheeks had to hurt, but it was unstoppable.

Ron is content. 

Mostly. 

* * *

Viktor Krum is sitting alone at a front table, smiling softly as he watches Arthur and Fleur do a jig to an up-tune beat, but the joy doesn't reach his eyes. 

* * *

Ron remembers when he was in fourth year and he heard that Viktor Krum would be _in his school, _in his _general vicinity _for _months. _He almost fainted from excitement- after all, Viktor was and still is a _sensational _flier.

Ron thought that was all there was to it. 

He watched Viktor almost hungrily during the Triwizard Tournament, feigning more interest in Harry's progress as to not alert his friends of his growing obsession, but when Viktor had swum out of the lake clutching Hermione, his loose singlet sticking to his broad chest and revealing biceps that Ron was pretty sure could _crush _him-

Well.

He had been holding Hermione. 

It didn't feel so great.

* * *

His jealousy grew, when he could only watch as Viktor Krum charmed Hermione off his feet like he thought he desperately wished he could.

His resentment grew when he considered, for the tiniest moment, that maybe he was jealous of Hermione.

His fear grew when it was late at night and he'd recoiled his hands disgustedly from out of his boxers when he realised that he'd dreamt of a thick accent, large hands, wide shoulders and not the pretty laugh, the periwinkle dress, the delicate fingers that he normally did.

His sadness grew when Ron watched Harry stare hopelessly at Cho and Cedric in the Great Hall at mealtimes and could only think to himself, '_that's me. Me too.'_

* * *

Ron has grown into himself a bit more since fourth year, with dress robes that fit him properly and his crimson hair is cut, neat and tidy, and he's dropped some baby fat from his cheeks, a result of quidditch and running around trying to make sure Harry wasn't getting into any funny business. 

Even though he was a handsome young man, with plenty of redeeming qualities, he still felt small in the large world of Harry and Hermione and his siblings- how could he not? He was the youngest son, nothing special, sidekick to a celebrity and the brightest witch in their generation, and as this runs through his mind over and over again he remembers the one time Hermione and him got into a terrible row and she used the words "_your inferiority complex" _and slapped her hand over her mouth while she teared up, and Ron almost _laughed._

Hermione slapping a hand over her mouth when she said that implied it was something she wasn't supposed to say aloud, like a dirty little secret, as if Ron didn't _know _he was just a pawn in a chess game that he could never win, while Harry was the king and Hermione was the queen and everyone else he knew was a bishop or a rook or a knight or _something _more than disposable. Expendable. 

He's had his fair share of dirty little secrets, and feeling worthless wasn't one of them. 

Viktor Krum, however, was. 

* * *

Ron downed a flute of champagne in two, hearty gulps. Then he reached for another one.

This wedding wasn't feeling very fun anymore. 

* * *

The lights and sounds and movements were becoming a haze and Ron was giggling quietly and somewhat deliriously as Viktor Krum spotted him and began to walk over- because this _had _to be the world's _funniest _joke, bringing Viktor Krum to him now while he looked like a mess and felt even worse. 

Viktor Krum hadn't changed much- his face had a scratchy stubble and his eyes were still cold and grey. He looked just as strong, if not stronger, but he was nimble, his broad figure ducking and weaving through dancing figures towards Ron. He, in his muggle style, pressed white shirt, and black slacks that fit him like _that, _coming towards Ron. 

He couldn't stop laughing. 

When Viktor finally arrived, Ron snorted unattractively and Viktor cocked his head to the side a little, silently sitting himself down next to Ron.

The chairs were a bit small and the boys were a bit big- the sides of their legs pressed together, and Ron immediately stopped laughing when he felt the warmth of Viktor's body heat seeping through.

"What's so funny?" Viktor asked, and Ron hadn't realised he'd missed the thick European accent until then. It hit him like a brick, waves of uncontrollable _melancholy _washing over him, and this was more than just _Viktor- _Viktor just symbolised everything Ron couldn't have, couldn't accept, couldn't want.

"Nothing." Ron mumbled back, reaching for another flute of champagne, but Viktor grabbed his hand before he could reach it. Ron's reaction was instant, flushing and snapping his hand back swiftly. 

"No more for you." Viktor said simply, pretending he hadn't noticed how Ron's hands were shaking slightly and he was red, _Merlin, _he was so fucking red.

"Why not?" Ron asked stubbornly, because you couldn't be raised in a house with six other siblings and _not _have a backbone, no matter how pathetic Ron thought he was, and this time it was Viktor's turn to laugh.

"If you stood up, you would fall down." He said matter of factly, crossing his arms. 

Ron took much offense to that. He stood up. 

He toppled over and fell right back down. 

Except-

He missed his chair. And now Viktor Krum had a lapful of a tipsy Ron Weasley and Ron wanted desperately to be embarrassed, but he just didn't have the energy, not anymore. Viktor gently hoisted him back into his chair, completely quiet.

"That is what six glasses of champagne and some will do to you, Ronald." Viktor smiled, friendly.

"You were _watching?_" _Now, _Ron was embarrassed, because what person in their right mind would go and drink six glasses of champagne while they sat alone surrounded by people? "And it's _Ron._"

Loners did that. _Losers _did that. 

Ron felt hot. 

"Maybe." Viktor shrugged, effortlessly calm, effervescently cool, and Ron hated Viktor as much as he liked him. The man was world famous, successful, and had dated _Hermione _fucking _Granger. _

Ron liked Viktor a lot. 

Always had. 

Maybe always would. 

It still felt shameful, admitting that to himself, making him already feel lesser than he did. He was a walking figure of pity, a beacon of teen angst and loneliness. 

It was _sad. _

"Why did you come over here?" Ron said, cursing the slur that mixed his speech together but it was only right, because if his thoughts were all mixed up then why shouldn't his words be mixed too? 

Viktor shrugged again, which Ron was beginning to get annoyed with. Why should Viktor be completely relaxed while Ron's world was slowly ebbing apart with every minute that passed by during this fucking wedding? 

Many questions to answer, plenty of food for thought. 

The two sat in silence. Ron was completely hyperaware of every movement Viktor made, every small shift in his position, every deep breath and long sigh, every twitch of the large hands that sat in his lap and every roll of his neck. 

It only could've been minutes. It felt like hours when Viktor spoke again. Ron lapped up his every word like a thirsty dog and he felt so _wrong. _

"You've changed." Viktor said offhandedly, sounding nonchalant. His fingers were digging deep into the coarse fabric of his pants. 

"You haven't." Ron muttered back, feeling all too sober all too fast, because he didn't _need _a lecture from a celebrity athlete that he was half in love with since he was fourteen. 

"It's a good change." Viktor continued, as if Ron hadn't spoken at all. "You don't need to be so sad all the time, no?"

"I'm _not." _Ron said instinctually, but he sagged immediately. Viktor nodded, all his assumptions affirmed. 

"You are at wedding, and you're sad." He said sharply. "Why?"

Ron glared at him, looking at his stupid crooked nose and the stupid scar on his lip and his stupid grey eyes. "None of your business. I'm not fucking sa-"

"You and me." Viktor interrupted, and Ron froze. "We play quidditch one day. Catch up. You tell me why. Now, not time for sadness. I'll tell you why."

Ron didn't want to know why. Viktor was gaining momentum and Ron had _always _had trouble keeping up.

"Look at Fleur. She's so happy, so in love. Look at your mother- she's so proud of Bill. Proud of you all. Your father? Got bitten by snake, no? Still smiling. Even Harry- parents are dead, godfather is dead, lived with bad muggles. He's dancing!"

Ron felt a thin sense of guilt settle in the pit of his stomach while Viktor kept talking, about Luna, Ginny, Fred and George. He had dug himself so deep into a hole of self-loathing that he'd completely ignored that Harry and Bill and everyone he thought was _perfect _weren't always happy and bubbly and charming. Not all was well- there was a war outside and he'd just-

Pitied himself. 

_Merlin, _how _pathetic. _

"Now, Fleur and I will dance." Viktor finished, shaking Ron out of his reverie. "But, we will catch up one day."

"What about Hermione?" Ron blurted, and immediately wanted to put his foot in his mouth. Viktor shrugged it off, as per usual, and smiled, quirking the side of his mouth. 

"She's- _ah- _not my type, anymore." He said cryptically. "See you around, Ronald." 

And in seconds, Ron was alone again, but it didn't feel as heavy anymore. 

He smiled. 

* * *

_Death Eaters poured into the white tent, a seemingly infinite amount. Ron was shooting at the dark masses surrounding him, unable to see anything but chaos, hear anything but screams. _

_Fleur had cut the bottom of her dress off, flitting around and furiously throwing spell after spell at anybody, everybody, with all the vengeance of a woman scorned. Ron scanned the room for all of his family, his heart racing as the deepest sense of fear settled in his body. The war was now, and there was no turning back._

_Across the room, in the corner of his eye, he saw Viktor slash his wand into the air, and three black-clad bodies dropped to the floor. His face was blank, and he wore all the concentration of someone used to competing and winning. _

_Ron hope he would be okay. _

_Harry shouted his name, and Ron took Hermione's hand, the last thing he saw being the white tent going up in painstakingly bright flames, the green Dark Mark ominously in the night sky. _


End file.
